


variations on a theme

by colourvision



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Future Fic, M/M, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourvision/pseuds/colourvision
Summary: Oikawa and Iwaizumi may be going to different universities, but they won't grow apart - will they?





	

The bike ride had been Oikawa’s idea.

It had been a quiet weekend, during the summer break, when Oikawa had called him.

“I’m going to visit the training camp, to see how our underclassmen are doing. Are you in?” he had asked, and Iwaizumi had agreed, and put on his helmet, and biked to Oikawa’s house. Iwaizumi had knocked, and Oikawa had skipped out.

“I’m just worried about how they’re doing, that’s all,” said Oikawa. He sat on his bike, leaning to the side, and drank from a water bottle, gulping loudly. His other hand shielded his face from the harsh sun; his eyes crinkled, and Iwaizumi instinctively wondered if he had bothered putting on sunscreen. From the pale pinkness on Oikawa’s nose, he hadn’t. Oikawa got sunburns too easily.

“They’ll be fine,” said Iwaizumi. “Just because you’ve graduated and someone else has taken your role as captain doesn’t mean they’ll be floundering.”

“Hmmm.”

“Don’t worry so much.” Iwaizumi leaned on the handlebars. “I can’t believe you came all the way to Sendai - for _this_ -”

“Don’t be silly, Iwa-chan! I also came to annoy you. Although,” he said, sighing, “it’ll be difficult to accomplish all of this in such a short trip. Before you know it, I’ll be back in Tokyo, and you’ll realize how sorely you’ve been missing me.”

They had graduated from high school in March, and the first semester of uni had begun in April, and then summer vacation had come.

From what Iwaizumi understood, volleyball teams in university had strict schedules, and most players considered the game to be more important than what they were majoring in. It meant a strict training regime - preparation for the official matches in the fall. But there were still opportunities for visiting home and slacking off and lounging about.

Not that Iwaizumi knew anything about that. This was all second-hand information that Iwaizumi had learned from Oikawa.

“Really,” said Oikawa, “I think you should have come to Tokyo with me. I would have smuggled you in my suitcase - and hid you underneath my bed - my roommate’s really nice, I don’t think they would have ratted on us to the landlord. You would have been great on our team…”

“I guess. But everyone knows how terrible you are at keeping at secrets,” said Iwaizumi.

Oikawa looked contemplative. “That’s not true. Besides, I heard about someone on the floor below me who tried to sneak in a rabbit. They lasted about a week before they got caught.”

“I’m not a rabbit.”

“You’re marginally less cuter, that’s true -”

And Oikawa pedaled off.

Iwaizumi was faster than Oikawa, and whether this was because he had spent almost every day since he graduated high school pedaling up a hill to his job, or because his bike was better, he didn’t know. Oikawa had that grin on his face, that one that meant business; it was very endearing. Iwaizumi pedaled harder. He would not let Oikawa beat him. If he did, Oikawa would reprimand him - Iwaizumi could already hear Oikawa, drawling, “Well, we’ve gotten lazy since graduation, haven’t we…”

Iwaizumi liked the feeling of the wind on his face, and the sense of summer in the air. When he usually biked to work, he was able to reach a trance-like state until he reached his workplace, as he let his mind wander, and his eyes take in the sights. Today, he was focused on nothing but pedalling. Oikawa was beside him, and if this had been a proper race, Oikawa would have been a close second.

It was nice.

“We’re here,” said Oikawa, before long. Iwaizumi blinked. The training camp was in the middle of a forest, and the bike ride from Sendai was about half an hour long.

Iwaizumi leaned his bike against a streetlamp, and locked it. He glared at the building in front of him. If he had expected it to change in the meanwhile, it hadn’t. It looked as old-fashioned as ever, and Iwaizumi knew the boys at the camp would still be washing their clothes by hand, and cooking their food own food, as he had.

“Believe it or not,” said Oikawa, “but I think it had better accommodations than some of the campus residences - no, really, I think you’d be shocked if you had ventured out of Sendai, and seen some of the places they’ve put up for rent. It’s shameless.”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “You’re just saying that because it was your job to play volleyball 24/7 here.”

“And you couldn’t scold me, either.”

“I don’t _scold_ you.”

“You do! Your memory must be failing you. It’s alright, though, since you’re so old and fussy. It matches your personality perfectly.”

Some part of Iwaizumi - a part of him that hadn’t grown past middle school - wanted to hit Oikawa with a stick.

“Aren’t they going to be shocked by us, just popping in here?”

“They’ll greet their former captain with cheers and hurrahs. Besides, Yahaba - _Captain_ Yahaba, actually, that’s his new title - always liked me. I’m sure he’d be glad to see us.”

“That’s true,” said Iwaizumi, absent-mindedly. He knocked on the front door, and got no response. After a minute, he looked through the window. It offered a view to the kitchen; it was dark, and looked like it hadn’t been used in months.

“Oikawa,” said Iwaizumi, turning around. “Are you sure that the training camps have begun yet?”

Oikawa pressed his lips together. “This is the same week we went last year. I wonder if they changed the schedule?”

“Either that, or they’ve changed the training camp. Didn’t you tell them you were coming here?”

“No,” said Oikawa. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Iwaizumi crossed his arms. “Well,” he said, “I guess we’d better be going back home now.”

“You’re not mad?” asked Oikawa.

“You could have checked earlier,” said Iwaizumi, “but there’s worse things in the world than a bike ride on a sunny day.”

Oikawa looked at him, up and down. “You’ve gotten so mature in the meanwhile. I was half-expecting you to regress when you told me you’d be staying at home instead of going away from uni.”

“Only you’d throw a tantrum over something like this. Let’s go.”

Iwaizumi unlocked his bike. The front wheel slumped in the ground, just slightly, as he gripped the handle bars, and he knew without looking that there was a flat tire.

“Damn,” he said. He kicked the front wheel. Iwaizumi didn’t need to check his pockets to know that he had no patches or pumps or anything that could fix a wheel.

“What’s wrong?” asked Oikawa.

“The tire’s flat.” Iwaizumi kicked it again.

Oikawa bit his lip. “I’d bet they have a spare tube or something in the training camp.”

“We’re not going to break into the camp,” said Iwaizumi.

“That’s not what I meant! I was just thinking, it’s a shame I don’t have the keys anymore.” Oikawa sighed. “Maybe a gas station nearby has a pump.”

“That’s not going to help if there’s a hole somewhere. I’ll have to walk the bike home.”

“Walk it home!” Oikawa sounded like he was yelping. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Really,” said Iwaizumi. “I was expecting you to go and race off and leave me alone.” He used the same tone of voice that Oikawa had used just a moment ago - pure disappointment.

Oikawa made a face. “I’m not _that_ petty.”

“You did it before. Remember? We were in elementary school and we were biking to class - or biking home, I can’t remember - and I got a flat tire and you just laughed and went home.”

“Well,” said Oikawa. “I was in elementary school. Nobody’s a fully formed human then! And besides, our school was a five-minute walk from your house. You’re making it sound like I abandoned you in your worst moment. Like you were crying on the way home, or something.”

“You really _were_ awful back then,” said Iwaizumi, laughing. “I never understood how the teachers stood you.”

“ _You_ were an awful teacher’s pet,” said Oikawa. He was smiling, too. “They liked you for no good reason.”

“They liked me because I didn’t make it my life’s mission to get into stupid rivalries with everyone in sight. Fights over who was the best at dodgeball, fights over who could take care of the class hamster, fights over whether aliens were real or not. I never understood how one person could be so competitive.”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“I know a few people who’d agree with me,” said Iwaizumi.

They walked home.

*

“My skin is peeling,” said Oikawa. He leaned on the front desk, and poked at his nose. It was an uncomfortable shade of pink. His cheekbones were almost red, transitioning into red, giving him the appearance of a permanent blush. It was at odds with his scowl. “You need to put aloe vera on my face.”

“Why didn't you put on sunscreen?”

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” said Iwaizumi.

“I was wondering why you smelt so coconuty,” said Oikawa, sighing.

The sports store was quiet. Sundays were always slow days, and Iwaizumi was still able to finish his work, even with Oikawa distracting him in the background. Iwaizumi opened a box with the knife, and it made a satisfying sound as he cut through the cardboard. He threw a basketball in the rack, and it landed gently.

Oikawa picked it up, and tried to spin it on his finger. It fell.

“Put that down,” said Iwaizumi. “Who do you think you are, Rukawa?” He picked it up and put it away. Oikawa pouted.

“Who knows,” said Oikawa, “maybe I have a chance to make it in basketball. I know _I'm_ certainly tall enough for it.”

Iwaizumi was still conscientious of the fact that he was a few centimeters shorter than Oikawa, and would likely remain so for the rest of his life.

“Are you going to keep making a mess out of things, or are you going to help me?”

“I don't even work here,” said Oikawa. “What's the point if I'm not getting a paycheck?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Iwaizumi liked his job. The boss was notoriously lax, mostly because he was his grandfather, who owned the store at this point more out of habit than any real compulsion to make money. Most of their customers were the elderly, due to where the store was located - mostly grandmothers who came in to buy something for their athletic grandchild, who warmed to Iwaizumi and told him their life stories freely.

His grandfather had offered the job after Iwaizumi’s high school graduation, and Iwaizumi was thankful - he got the shifts he wanted, and his grandfather turned a blind eye when he worked on his homework or talked to Oikawa.

So - Oikawa would come in every now and then before the semester started for both of them, probably because annoying Iwaizumi was part of one of his incomprehensible schemes. And Iwaizumi would roll his eyes, but never kick him out.

“I'll buy you a bike tube. Hold on, Iwa-chan, do you have an employee discount?”

“You’re something special.”

“Well, do you?”

Iwaizumi hesitated. “Yeah, 30 percent.”

“Well, you pay for it and I'll pay you back -”

Their IOUs had never been so vulgar as to involve actual money. It was always favours, or snacks, or small knick-knacks - toys that came with fast food meals, and video game cartridges, when they were younger.

“Excuse me,” said someone. “Is this”—she was holding a jacket—“on sale?”

A girl, about their age. She was looking at Oikawa - she must have taken him for an employee, although Iwaizumi was behind the counter. Iwaizumi recognized the signs of a crush, had seen them too many times in high school. The beaming eyes and flushed skin. Iwaizumi felt something pulling in his gut, and hastily convinced himself it was pity he was feeling.

“Well,” said Oikawa, but Iwaizumi interrupted him.

“He doesn’t work here. Let me take a look,” he said. “It is.”

She paid quickly, and looked at Oikawa again, before leaving.

“Well, well, well,” said Oikawa. “I detect a note of irritation in your voice. Are you annoyed that you have to deal with actual customers? Or could it be that -”

“I have studying I need to do,” said Iwaizumi. He wasn’t annoyed. She was the first customer who had come in for ages, and really, he needed a break from Oikawa’s constant badgering.

“You really are taking this seriously. Studying during the summer!”

“Some of us can’t afford to slack off and play volleyball all the time,” said Iwaizumi.

“I’ve never slacked off, not ever,” said Oikawa, “it’s just that some things have to be made a priority, and volleyball is that priority - right now.”

“Right,” said Iwaizumi.

He wondered why he was upset.

*

He knew exactly why he was upset and why. He knew what _liking_ your best friend meant. It meant a practical part of your brain telling you: he’s moving away and you’re staying home for uni - move on and accept it - and what did it say about you when you liked someone so frivolous.

He wondered what exactly he saw in Oikawa.

*

Iwaizumi settled into his routine when the semester began. He went to a uni nearby - close enough to go by bus or by subway or by bike, even. The city was big enough to have a variety of choices for any young student who wanted further education.

Indeed, Oikawa had been the only one of them to go away for university. There was no shame in staying and living with your parents while you went to classes, but there was the feeling of missing out, the feeling that you were staying behind while everyone else got the chance to move on.

(He had asked his older sister for advice before graduating.

“Uni’s a lot easier than high school,” she had said, “so make sure you have some _fun_ before you graduate and become a boring salaryman.”

Iwaizumi had wondered if the future was something to fear.)

Iwaizumi sat in a corner of the library, economics homework open. He scratched the page with his pencil. A buzz came from his backpack. He checked his phone; there was a message from Oikawa, which ordinarily wouldn’t have been something to note. Oikawa liked to send pictures intermittently, and Iwaizumi liked to ignore them or reply to them as he pleased.

_i know this is short notice_ , the message began, _but we're having an away game tomorrow at 12. at your uni! you probably know already_

Another message: _are you going to go watch?_

Iwaizumi hadn't joined his university's official volleyball team, but had joined the intramural team, which was made up mostly of beginners and people who had joined to have fun, rather than to fulfill their competitive soul. He missed Oikawa whenever the setter gave him a faulty throw, although he never complained.

Iwaizumi had not been keeping track of the university's official matches.

He took his phone into his hands and typed out a response: _yes, of course._ He closed his economics homework, putting everything back into his backpack slowly. How long had he been sitting there? His legs were tired, and all at once he wanted to move. It was as if he was back in high school, thinking about how long it would be before class ended, and he could go and practise. The urge to run, to do something, overwhelmed him.

Iwaizumi could see his reflection in the black of his phone’s glossy screen. He was able to make out his face, and see that he looked distinctly tired - he could make out circles under his eyes if he looked close enough. Hadn’t he been scolding Oikawa for staying up, not too long ago?

And here he was, staying up, not because of his own wishes, but because the mixture of classes and homework and working at his grandfather’s store and intramural volleyball practice. It was not the tiredness he had thought he had known before - the tiredness of working out for too long, of wearing out your body.

No, this was the fatigue that came of keeping your eyes open for too long while you stood still. It was unbearable. He would go tomorrow, and he would cheer for Oikawa, and celebrate with him if he win, or mourn with him if he lost. That Oikawa’s team would be playing against his university’s team was of no concern for him.

He missed Oikawa.

*

“I can’t stay for long,” said Oikawa. His face was flushed from excitement - the result of a long match. Oikawa had gestured towards Iwaizumi, bringing him to a corner outside of the gym, quiet and empty, where they could talk by themselves, if only for a few moments.

“You guys won,” said Iwaizumi.

Oikawa laughed. “You don’t sound excited. Are you mad your uni’s team lost? You know you should only be rooting for _me_ ,” he said.

“Excuse me,” said Iwaizumi. “I’m not going to turn into one of your cheerleaders just because I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’d like to see that,” said Oikawa, and he laughed again. His excitement could barely be contained, Iwaizumi could see; it was bursting from his beaming face. It was the face he had wanted to see after that match with Karasuno - but that was the past.

“But I am disappointed that you didn’t join the volleyball team for your uni,” Oikawa continued. “I wanted to trounce you properly - in a nice way, I mean - I wanted to see how you’d play with a different team. It seemed like we’d been playing volleyball together for so long, I couldn’t imagine anyone else setting to you.”

“I was busy,” said Iwaizumi. It sounded like a feeble excuse to him as the words left his lips.

“Busy, busy,” said Oikawa. “I think you’re moving further and further away from me.”

“You’re the one who left Miyagi.”

“Oh! I didn’t come here to fight with you. Come be my cheerleader for the next match, alright?”

*

Iwaizumi adjusted his scarf. It was scratchy, on his lips, but it was cold, and the snow had already begun to gather on his luggage after only a few minutes outside. He looked around. Oikawa would be arriving soon, ready to welcome him to Tokyo.

Iwaizumi had received the text a few weeks ago.

_there’s a spare room in our apartment_ , Oikawa had written, _and my roommate won’t mind. he’ll be going away. you’ll have fun in tokyo. i promise!_

Although Iwaizumi would never have admitted it to anyone, he had been eager to visit. There was something about staying home for uni, and living a cycle of nonstop working and studying, that had made him wonder if he wasn’t getting the real university experience. He _had_ seen American movies. Go away for college, and find your independence.

This would have to do. He settled into a bench. It was too cold out, so cold that he couldn’t take off his phone and absent-mindedly browse through his phone, as he had taken to doing while waiting for anything.

“Iwa-chan!”

Oikawa walked up the stairs. Iwaizumi could see him from the distant; he looked far too comfortable. Iwaizumi had nearly forgotten about that smug smile.

“Why are you waiting outside?” asked Oikawa.

“I thought you wouldn’t be long.”

Oikawa bounced on his feet. “We have to take a picture. Your first day in Tokyo! As an adult, I mean.”

Iwaizumi looked at him. “Your fingers’ll get cold.”

“Shut up. You worry too much. I didn’t think you’d start nagging so soon. Don’t make that face, _smile_ -”

Oikawa held out his phone, and took a picture.

“That photo looks terrible. You can’t see any of us, it’s too dark outside.”

“Since when were you so critical?”

“I thought you were the selfie expert.”

Oikawa stuck out his tongue. “I have to rebuild my collection. I lost all of my photos, you know.”

“How’d that happen?”

“I dropped my phone.” Oikawa sounded unconcerned. “But then I got a new one. It was about time I got an update. But turns out there’s no way no replace photos once your phone gets shattered into a million pieces, so…”

“This is why you’re supposed to back stuff up,” grumbled Iwaizumi.

“Hush,” said Oikawa. “Try to enjoy yourself, for once. Isn’t this such a perfect evening?”

“I guess.”

Oikawa took him to his apartment. It was a short walk from the train terminal. Iwaizumi realized that he must have looked terribly small town boy - although Sendai was _big_ \- everything caught his eye. He realized he must have looked absurd, eyes darting back and forth, trying to take everything in.

“It’s alright,” said Oikawa. “You look like every other tourist I’ve seen since I came to Tokyo.” He put his backpack down.

Iwaizumi looked at the living room.

“You said you had a spare room,” said Iwaizumi.

“I did,” said Oikawa. “We have a spare couch, too.”

“You are a _heathen_ ,” said Iwaizumi.

“Mmm,” said Oikawa, humming. He looked expectant - eyes bright, as if he wanted Iwaizumi to say something. Iwaizumi must have lost the ability to read his mind once Oikawa had left. He remembered a period of time, where he could deduce exactly what Oikawa was thinking. It must have been when they were both young.

“What is it?” asked Iwaizumi.

“Nothing, nothing,” said Oikawa. “It’s just that I’m worried.”

“About what?” Iwaizumi slid his luggage under the couch.

“About everything. Will poor, little, small-town Iwa-chan be able to handle it here?”

“Sendai has a million people. Give or take.”

“Don’t be so literal.”

“I’m trying.”

“Look,” said Oikawa. “I want to show you around. You’ll love it, I promise. I want you to see where the gym where my team practises, and the gym I go to, and -”

“Sure. Although I think you’ll be disappointed with my spikes. I haven’t exactly been keeping up.”

“You’ll be fine. Volleyball is our thing.”

Iwaizumi settled onto the couch.

“I miss talking like this,” said Oikawa. “I say something stupid, and then you pretend like you’re tired of me. Although you’re such a slow texter, I’ve almost come to believe it.” He sunk into the couch beside Iwaizumi, looking like he was swooning, like a character from a black-and-white movie. Oikawa always did exaggerate.

“Well,” said Iwaizumi, “I am a terrible texter.”

“At least you can admit your flaws. Now you can fix them.”

“It’s just easier to talk to people face-to-face.”

“You’re so old-fashioned. We should be writing long letters in ink to each other, at least once a week.”

“I guess.”

“Like a grandpa.”

“No,” said Iwaizumi.

“Yes,” said Oikawa. “You haven’t changed your LINE profile picture in years. I think it’s from our first year of high school.”

“It’s not like my face has changed that much since then.”

“You really are incorrigible!” Oikawa stood up, and looked around. “Let’s go. Before we melt into the couch.”

They slipped outside, and Oikawa took him to a bubble tea place. He made a great show of paying for his drink - Iwaizumi only rolled his eyes as Oikawa slid 1000 yen across the counter. They sat down at a nearby table.

“I wonder,” said Oikawa, “if they have bubble tea in Canada.”

“Of course they have bubble tea in Canada.” Iwaizumi paused. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ll be going to Canada next semester.” Oikawa looked away from his drink. “It’s an exchange program! I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“You’ll be playing volleyball there?”

“What else would I be doing?” There was pride on face, and Iwaizumi wanted to congratulate him. He was happy for him - of course, without question. There was a selfish part of him that felt that Oikawa’s successes were partly due to him, and that he had every right to brag about them. But he was happy for Oikawa, because he knew, had always known -

Oikawa would succeed, somehow.

“Congratulations,” said Iwaizumi.

“I was wondering how you’d take it. No, actually, that’s a lie. I knew you’d take it well. I was worried things would be different between us. But they’re not, are they?”

“They’re not,” said Iwaizumi. He was being truthful, he knew.

“I thought they would be,” said Oikawa. “Because when I went away, I thought I was homesick. But then I realized, I wasn’t homesick. I just missed you. I wondered how I’d get through the day without you. But nothing happened. I ate my vegetables and took my vitamins and set the volleyball and sometimes I didn’t even think of you. Isn’t that funny?” He squeezed the plastic container, just slightly. “I don’t usually get this sincere during lunch, by the way.”

“That’s exactly how I felt,” said Iwaizumi. “Only, it felt like you were moving away and I was staying behind.”

“But you’re not staying behind.”

“Literally, I am.”

“But not in the way that matters, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“After Karasuno lost, I went over the match a million times.” Oikawa stirred his straw through the remains of the tea. “I went over what we did wrong over and over again.”

“I know.”

“But you didn’t. I mean, you cried after the match -”

“Don’t remind me,” said Iwaizumi. It seemed too long ago. He had seen someone cry over a test in early high school, and hadn’t understood it. It had seemed incomprehensible then.

“But you moved on. And then I knew, I had to move on, too. And focus on new matches.”

“You’re not still angry with Ushiwaka, are you?”

“I’m sure his university team appreciates him,” Oikawa said. His voice was stiff.

Iwaizumi wanted to laugh. “You haven’t matured that much.”

“God, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. “I’m talking minor character development, not miracles. I’ll remain petty until the end of time.”

“I don’t think I expected otherwise.”

“Right,” said Oikawa. “But you were always so resilient. And steady. And reliable. I just knew you’d end up where you’d want to be. In the end.”

“Where’s the end?”

“When you graduate and become a boring salaryman, and I’m playing for the Japanese team for the Summer Olympics until the end of time -”

(If this were a light-hearted manga, Iwaizumi thought he would have swatted Oikawa, or threw an eraser at him.)

“You always aim so high,” said Iwaizumi.

“But that’s just it. Or no, not exactly. Even if we both fail at what we’re trying to do, or even if I fail, and you succeed, or you fail, and I succeed - I can’t imagine a future where we’re not pushing each other.”

“We’re getting sappy.”

“Are we?” asked Oikawa.

“It’s alright,” said Iwaizumi, and he breathed in. “You’re right - I guess I was worried about the future. But it wasn’t the future, exactly. It was a future without you.”

“Right,” said Oikawa.

“Right,” said Iwaizumi. “But a future where I know you’ll be there? That’s something to look forward to.”

“Well,” said Oikawa. “I’m glad we’ve unpacked this - this worry.”

“I’d heard about people who Skyped together every evening, and sent each other messages every second of the day, and I thought I was doing something wrong,” said Iwaizumi. “But we don’t need that, do we?”

“If you want to send me 20-page letters, written in fountain pen on elegant stationery, I wouldn’t complain. In our uniform colours.”

“This isn’t a war movie,” said Iwaizumi. He felt light-hearted all of a something, and had to stifle the urge to laugh. His bubble tea was empty.

*

The word _liked_ was silly. It reminded Iwaizumi of high school and whispering and passing notes. _Do you like-like them?_

He wanted to scoff.

*

“I really am going to miss you,” said Oikawa.

“Give ‘em hell,” said Iwaizumi. It seemed like the right thing to say.

Oikawa squinted at him. “Who? The Canadians?”

“You know what I meant,” said Iwaizumi.

The train station was quiet; it was late night. Iwaizumi would be returning home soon, leaving Oikawa in Tokyo. Eventually, Oikawa would be stepping away. It was all moving too fast, but Iwaizumi found that he didn’t mind it. He felt curiosity rather than fear. Anticipation.

“He’ll be someone else by the time he comes back,” thought Iwaizumi. “But it’s alright - so will I. We’ll be better - and _stronger_ \- by the end of it -”

Iwaizumi took Oikawa’s hand and squeezed it. Oikawa squeezed back.

“You always get so sentimental during moments like this. I can tell,” said Oikawa.

“Shut up,” said Iwaizumi. “The train is gonna be here, any moment.”

“To take you away,” said Oikawa, singing the words. He laid his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

Oikawa would undoubtedly fall asleep before the train came, but Iwaizumi found that he didn’t mind. A quiet moment, then, theirs and no one else’s. This was enough.


End file.
